


Failure and Fortitude

by sister_dear



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Animal Transformation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ensemble Cast, Found Family, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Physical Therapy, Platonic Cuddling, Rating for Legend's potty mouth, Sky (Linked Universe)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: Sky is turned into a bird. Adjusting isn’t nearly as easy as Twilight and Legend make it seem.
Comments: 58
Kudos: 327





	1. To Fall

Awareness jolts through Sky like lightning. His ears are full of an awful ringing. Laughter. Someone is laughing, and not in a good way. It’s loud, so loud, nearly drowning out the other sounds around him: shouting, clashing swords, stomping feet. Battle. There’s a battle. He needs to get up. 

He’s being smothered. 

Sky struggles. The world is pitch black. A great weight rests over him. It’s heavy but malleable, resisting all attempts to throw it off. He can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t gain purchase on anything. He twists and flails, limbs refusing to respond properly. All his efforts amount to nothing but aimless writhing. 

Something is very, very wrong with his body. 

He hardly notices when the deafening sounds fade and stop, nor the startled exclamation that follows. 

He definitely notices when the weight disappears. 

Dim light floods what was a black void. It’s hardly anything but still he flinches, closing his eyes against it. He can breathe. He needs to move, move before the weight comes back or a sword finds the space between his ribs. He’s so dizzy. He tries to shove to his feet and only manages a weak flopping of limbs. 

“Is that a bird?” 

He recognizes that voice. It belongs to Hyrule. He tries to call for help, but his throat is locked up tight. A myriad of other voices follow.

“How did it get in there?”

“Why’s it just flopping around like that?”

“Catch it before it hurts itself!”

Something large and solid clamps down around him like giant fingers, pinning his arms to his sides. His eyes fly open. He bites and scratches. It earns him a hiss of pain, but the cage around his body doesn’t let go. 

“Where’s Sky?”

Stillness falls at Wind’s question. Sky himself stops struggling. He’s right here, can’t they see him? Why aren’t they helping him?

“They didn’t carry him off while we weren’t looking, did they?”

“I never even saw him get up.”

“This was his bedroll.”

“And I ask again, how did a bird get into Sky’s bedroll?”

His eyes finally focus enough for the blurred shapes around him to resolve themselves into actual objects. Trees, cast in stark shadow by the flickering light of a campfire. His companions, all around. They’re breathing hard, most of them in only their sleeping clothes, bearing the scratches and shadowy bruises of an unexpected fight. Sky’s bedroll sits, disheveled but otherwise unassuming, at their feet. 

Something about the perspective of this all seems… off. 

The vice-like fingers around him shift their grip. They are _actual fingers_ , Sky realizes. His heart gives a sickening lurch. Or maybe that’s the movement. He’s being held. Held and moved. By Twilight, who is turning him to get a better look at him. Sky studies him in turn, stunned, momentarily forgetting his discomfort and disorientation. Those are Twilight’s hands, wrapped around his entire body. 

Sky is… Sky is _small_.

He opens his mouth. “Twilight?” he tries to ask, choking tightness in his throat be damned. What emerges instead is not his voice. It’s much more of a warble. The kind of sound he might expect from a loftwing. 

Sky panics. Just a bit. 

His shouts come out as a stream of chirps. He struggles and feels the pull and tug of feathers. He tries to push with his arms but they’re not arms, they’re wings, still trapped by the immovable cage of Twilight’s fingers. Twilight himself is crooning and clicking his tongue softly, as Sky had once seen him do when approaching a shy cat. One of his thumbs comes to rest over Sky’s back, ruffling the feathers there. The thumb pauses. Moves away. Returns as light pressure on his back, smoothing the feathers. Twilight falls silent. 

The world lurches again, Sky’s belly swooping as he’s lifted higher. He pecks at a finger and is ignored. Sky twists his neck around until he can see Twilight's face. Their ranch hand is frowning, brows drawn down in concentration. 

“Sky?” Twilight asks. The conversation around them goes abruptly silent. 

“Yes!” Sky shouts. It comes out as a particularly strident chirrup. Twilight meets his eyes. 

“Twilight? Are you feeling okay?” Hyrule asks hesitantly. 

“I’m fine,” Twilight says. “Just look.” He lowers Sky again, tilting him so the light of the campfire falls across his back. “Tell me you don't recognize that pattern.”

The others crowd around. “You’re blocking the light,” Legend snaps when Wind sticks his head in close, and is cursed at in return. One of Time’s hands comes up under Twilight’s, guiding it, and Sky’s world tips still further. Time is facing the campfire, so Sky sees it clearly when his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. 

“It’s him,” Time confirms. 

A soft “oh!” escapes Hyrule as he apparently spots whatever it is too. Sky gives voice to what he hopes is a questioning warble. 

“You’ve got a pattern in your feathers,” Four explains after Twilight obligingly moves his hands so Four can see Sky’s back for himself. Sky is beginning to feel a bit like a prized possession brought out for guests to gawk over, and he does not particularly appreciate the sensation. “It looks a lot like the one on your sailcloth.”

“How is that even possible?” Legend demands. “He sleeps with the Hylia-damned Master Sword!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Wind wants to know. His face and fingers are both twisted up on themselves with concern. 

“It reverses curses of this nature.” Time uses that particular tone he takes when he’s trying to dissuade questions. Of course, in this group that only works half the time. Sky can see the challenge brewing on Warrior’s face. Four beats him to it with a different question. 

“How close does he have to be for that to work? It’s not like he keeps it in his bedroll.”

Sky is very much done with being talked about as if he isn’t sitting right here, fully capable of understanding the conversation. He clicks his beak, grumbling.

“Uh, guys? Where _is_ the sword?”

A chill runs through Sky at that. His irritation vanishes in a wash of sheer panic. 

“Check around,” Time orders immediately. “It may have gotten kicked into the brush.” The group disperses, turning over loose items around the camp and hunting through the underbrush. Warrior picks up Sky’s bedroll and shakes it out. Nothing. 

“Did you have it on you?” Twilight asks Sky in a low voice. 

Sky tries to remember. He doesn’t actually sleep with it in his bedroll - he is not that bad, no matter what Legend says - but they all keep their weapons close, even at night. It’s possible he’d flung out an arm in his sleep and been in contact with it. He’s woken up with his hand on the scabbard more than once. 

He weaves his head from side to side, makes a hesitant sound. 

Twilight sighs. “So that’s a solid maybe.” Instead of joining the search, he seats himself carefully near the campfire, going slowly so as not to jostle his passenger. “How are you feeling? Are you steady enough to try standing?” 

Sky considers. Now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, he’s rather woozy, if he’s honest. He’s still dizzy and disoriented, feeling a little like his body is trying to float up out of Twilight’s hands all on its own. He nods anyway. 

“Right. I’m just going to adjust my grip.” Twilight shifts carefully until Sky’s feet are dangling awkwardly between his cupped hands. He sets Sky down on his knee, stopping as soon as Sky’s feet come into contact with the fabric of his trousers, and slowly starts to draw his hands away. Sky tries to find his center. His legs fold up under him, completely absent of strength. He throws out his wings for balance but has no strength in those either. They flop uselessly. The world spins. “Try again,” Twilight encourages. Sky is lifted, just slightly. He moves his legs, trying to get them properly beneath himself. They respond sluggishly, refusing to hold his weight when Twilight lowers him again. One more try, one more failure. Sky tries to express his frustration. It comes out as an avian warble, which only serves to make him more upset. 

“It’s all right,” Twilight soothes. “Here.” Sky is lifted and tucked carefully into the crook of Twilight’s arm, head resting just above the bend of his elbow. Sky has little control over his wings; the one not held in place against Twilight’s chest flops down over his forearm. It’s difficult to make out the exact color of the feathers in the firelight. Blue and grey, Sky thinks, staring in something of a daze as Twilight folds it back in carefully for him. It’s far more comfortable to have it tucked in against his body than stretched out, but the action only serves to further enforce to Sky his current weakness. The hand that comes to rest over him could crush the life out of him without an ounce of effort. The comforting weight of it suddenly feels threatening. Sky struggles. The hand lifts away instantly. “Sorry, sorry,” Twilight says. They settle. Sky listens to the others moving around the campsite, to Twilight's chainmail crinkling and crunching next to his ear. He's the only one fully dressed. He must have been on watch.

“The weakness should pass.” Twilight is trying to be reassuring, but Sky can hear the worry in his voice. “We’ll get you some food and rest and then try again.”

Wild pops up at Twilight’s shoulder. “The sword’s gone.” 

“Then it’s either stolen or it disappeared when Sky changed.”

Sky is not particularly fond of either of those options. He’s too wrung out for the panic to make another appearance, but his heart-rate gives a little surge regardless. 

“Can a monster even wield the Master Sword?” Done with their searching, the others regroup around the campfire. They all look exhausted. 

“Wield, no,” puts in Legend. “Carry? Maybe.” 

“Judging from experience, I’d say it’s more likely it disappeared,” Twilight disagrees. 

“Experience, hm?” Sky feels Twilight stiffen as Warrior eyes him from across the fire. “What kind of experience exactly?”

“What kind, indeed?” There is a moment of silence while Time and Twilight stare at each other. Twilight sighs, defeated. 

“I need to hand you off to someone, Sky. Who do you want to go to?”

“Me! Pick me, Sky!” Wind hops up from his seat. “Aryll taught me how to hold seagulls! You’re smaller than them, but not by too much! I promise I’ll be careful!” 

There’s no way Sky can resist that face. He warbles agreeably. 

Wind folds his arms in front of his torso, palms turned upwards and forming a platform of sorts. Twilight shifts Sky into this cradle, careful to scoop under him but not to grab. Wind is thin and wiry, all long limbs not yet filled in. Sky takes up more space in his arms than he does in Twilight’s.

It’s strange to be held without the buffer of chainmail. Sky has gotten far too accustomed to wearing his own. It’s certainly warmer this way.

“Don’t worry, Sky!” Wind retakes his seat, dropping down with an abrupt motion that jostles his passenger. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time!”

Twilight clears his throat, shuffles his feet. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you all. Given Sky’s current predicament, I should probably go ahead and…” he trails off. 

“Just show them.” Time’s arms are crossed, his face stone. Wild gives Twilight a not so surreptitious thumbs up. 

Twilight nods, clears his throat again. Not meeting anyone’s eyes, he grabs hold of the pendant that always hangs around his neck. Sky is looking right at it as it happens but it’s still hard to follow. Shadows, a strange sound, and then Wolfie is standing where Twilight was moments before. 

Sky had started to suspect, after the incident with Legend not so long ago. Judging from the startled curses - Warrior creative, Wind outright vulgar - and the way Hyrule’s hand comes up to cover his mouth, Sky was closer to knowing the truth than some of their party. He’s equally aware of just how many of them aren’t surprised. “Fucking finally,” Legend mutters. Four nods in agreement. 

Twilight changes back quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“All this time!” Warrior exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger in Twilight’s direction before waving it around towards the group at large. “And you all knew!”

Wild and Four shrug, equally unapologetic. “I met him as Wolfie,” Wild explains. 

“I did too,” puts in Four. 

“Figured it out a while back,” Legend says, notably not mentioning his brief stint as a rabbit. Time only raises an eyebrow. Warrior throws up his hands. 

“The point,” Twilight stresses, “Is that when this first happened to me, the Master Sword let me change back. And after, whenever I changed while I was carrying the sword, it went away somewhere. I never knew where, but it always came back when I did.”

“You think the sword’s hiding or whatever.” Legend taps his fingers against his knee, eyes narrowed. 

“Yes.”

“Then how are we gonna use it to help Sky?” Wind’s fingers ruffle through the feathers at the back of Sky’s neck. They’re not covering or caging, just soothing. It’s nice. It’s really nice. Sky blinks slowly into the contemplative silence. He was already boneless with exhaustion; the gentle ruffling is causing the same slow tug towards sleep as someone’s hands in his hair. 

“Maybe we don’t need it?” Hyrule suggests, hesitant. 

“I have a Moon Pearl,” Legend has an air about him of someone reminding them of the obvious. 

Four’s face creases in confusion. “What good will that do?”

“Helps you retain your true form in the underworld.” Legend continues blithely speaking over Four’s somewhat bewildered - _“It does?”_ \- asking Twilight, “Can we get to the underworld in your Hyrule? A moon pearl might be enough to break the curse there.” 

Twilight shakes his head, a haunted look on his face. Legend scowls but doesn't push.

“Last time the sword disappeared-” no one looks at Wild “-it came back on it’s own. Maybe we just need to give it time?” Hyrule doesn’t look any happier to be offering this option than Sky is to hear it. He makes a sleepy noise of protest. No one notices.

“But where does the sword go?” Warrior wants to know. “Is it possible it’s in its resting place here? Wherever that is in this place and time?”

“And if it is? If we find it and take it, what does that do to Twilight’s timeline?” 

“I say we try Legend's idea, find a way into the underworld.” 

Twilight shakes his head, still wearing that haunted look. “There’s no way to get into the Twilight Realm in my Hyrule. The mirror was shattered. If we’re going to try that method, it will have to wait until we switch worlds again.”

“Wait and hope?” Legend shoots back. “Is that really the best we can come up with?”

“We can’t risk the Master Sword, not even for this.” Warrior at least has the grace to turn an apologetic look in Sky’s direction. “It’s too important.”

“What if we can’t get Sky turned back and it’s lost to us too? Doesn’t that have an even bigger impact on all of our timelines? Sky is the first of us. If he doesn’t have it, none of us do.”

“Then we make for the sword,” Time finally weighs in. “Twilight, you were the last to have it here. You know where it is?”

“Yeah. We’re a week away, maybe more, but yeah.”

Even the sound of Legend scoffing isn’t enough to wake Sky from his sleepy stupor. “This is ridiculous. We aren’t going to go weeks out of our way without even trying a moon pearl first.” There are stomping feet and rustling sounds. “Wind, bring him here.” 

Sky’s world whirls and sways. “What’s that?”

“Moon pearl. Sky. _Sky_.” 

Sky cracks an eye open. When did he close them? Legend’s hand is level with Wind’s arms, a round opalescent stone resting in the middle of his open palm. It’s only a few inches away, but the distance seems insurmountable. 

The hand drifts closer, stopping just short of actually coming into contact with Wind. “You have to touch it, birdbrai-” Legend cuts off his usual insult with a curse. 

It takes monumental effort to rouse himself into movement. His limbs feel loose and uncoordinated. After a few false starts, Sky manages to flop a wing out over Wind’s arm. The far end of it comes to rest on top of the pearl. 

Nothing. 

The disappointed silence is stifling. Legend shrugs. “Worth a shot,” he mutters. The pearl disappears into his tunic. Sky’s wing is left trailing down over Wind’s arm. Sky stares at the feathers. They don’t feel like they’re part of his body. He can’t muster the strength or will to pull the limb back in. His eyes slip closed again. 

“Guys? I don’t think he’s doing so good.”

A general susurrus of worry, bodies crowding around. “Sky, you need to eat and drink before you can sleep.” Time’s voice is very close. He must be kneeling next to Wind. 

“Does anyone know what kind of bird he is?” Warrior asks. “What do you think they eat?”

“Some form of dove, I believe. Nuts and seeds are likely safe, given the shape of his beak.” A startled silence follows Time’s matter of fact statement. “I live on a farm, if you recall. We see our share of birds. Wild?”

“Yeah, I have those. Uh, how-?”

“Pour some on a plate.”

Tinkling sounds. The swooping sensation of a swift drop; Wind going down to his knees. “Come on, Sky! Dinner.” Worry subdues his usual cheer. He scoops Sky up, not quite so careful as Twilight had been. Sky is deposited on something hard and cold. His claws briefly slide across the surface before his legs fold up under him, belly settling on whatever it is. He cracks his eyes open to see he’s been set down on a plate, a small pile of seeds right in front of his face. 

Sky isn’t feeling hungry. Plain seeds aren’t exactly appetizing. He gamely gives it a try anyway. He doesn’t like to make Wind worry. 

Eating, at least, comes easier than standing. Instinct kicks in at the first tentative peck. His belly feels much more settled by the time he gives in and lets his head droop in exhaustion. 

“Water next. Then you can sleep.” Sky is lifted and deposited on another shallow dish. He makes a cross sound. “Please, Sky.”

Such worry. Sky drinks too. Only a little, but it must be good enough. He barely registers being lifted a final time before being set down on something soft, sound blurring and fading into the welcome embrace of sleep. 


	2. To Flip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual physical therapy takes significantly longer than portrayed in this chapter. I’m hand-waving because magic.

Sky wakes in a poor mood that only gets worse as the day goes on. 

The food and good night’s rest have done little to restore his strength. Flight is clearly out of the question. Spending the day perched on Warrior’s shoulder seems like the next best thing. He tells himself optimistically that it will be almost like walking alongside his friend and manages to convey his wishes through pointed motions of his head and a lot of cooing and chirping. 

After the third near-fall, Sky is firmly deposited back in Wind’s eager arms. Warrior, as one of their best frontline fighters, needs his hands free should they be attacked. Sky simply can’t keep his balance on the moving, rounded platform of Warrior’s shoulder, and doesn’t have enough strength in his legs to catch himself when he starts to slip.

Unable to respond in any meaningful way to their sailor’s continuous chatter, his thoughts drift inward and grow sour. 

He cannot speak. He cannot fly. He cannot even stand for Hylia’s sake. And even if he could, what then? This body is not suited for battle. Sky is defenseless. Useless. It does not settle well. 

When they break for a midday meal, Sky is left on another plate of seeds that he pecks half-heartedly at. It’s Legend rather than Wind that picks him up when they’re packing away their simple meal. 

“My turn,” Legend waves Wind off. 

“Be nice to him!” 

Legend snorts. “I’m always nice.” As soon as Wind is a sufficient distance away, he turns the full force of his scowl on Sky. “Are you really going to let yourself be this pathetic? You think I took being turned into… into you-know-what and just rolled over?”

No, Legend never met a thing he wasn’t willing to fight. Himself very much included.

Sky isn’t like Legend. Sky will act in defense of himself or his loved ones. He’ll even take some pleasure from it. 

He’s so very tired of fighting his own body. 

It took years of training at the academy to achieve the level of control and speed he has in combat. Countless hours went into gaining enough stamina to keep up with his peers. Hours and days lost to sickness and fatigue meant he often lost time others spent refining their skill. To come as far as he has despite his poor health is an achievement, one he’s proud of. 

And now he’s solidly back at square one, all those years of work undone. It’s a crushing defeat. 

“Sky.” Sky startles. Where did Four come from? Four meets his eyes and holds them, serious and intent. “After my first adventure,” Four starts, speaking slowly and deliberately, “I had to learn to walk again.” 

Legend’s next step falters. Sky’s breath catches in his throat. Four lets the silence sit for a moment before plowing on. “I needed my grandfather for the most basic things. It was humiliating. I was barely functioning. I knew I couldn’t live like that. 

“Zelda found me a doctor that specializes in helping injured soldiers recover. She gave me drills to do. Stuff for strength training, coordination, that kind of thing. I think some of them might work for you too. If you’ll let us help. If you’re willing to try.” 

Sky is stunned speechless. Shame rushes through him at how he’s been acting. As if he’s the only one who’s had to deal with handicaps and physical setbacks. He knows better. He bobs his head. Four smiles. 

“Our first step,” he says, “should be to get some strength back in your legs.”

Not all of Four’s strength exercises are well suited for a party on the move, nevermind for a bird, but they manage. In that one regard, Sky thinks with a twinge of wry humor, his current size comes in handy. 

“Hold him in one hand, let his legs dangle,” Four instructs Legend. “Then put your other hand underneath so his feet are touching - yes, like that. Now Sky, push against his hand. Don’t worry about keeping your balance or trying to stand, Legend has you. Just push.”

It’s embarrassing how exhausting the whole thing is. Still, it helps Sky’s mood immeasurably to have something productive to do. They do the exercises in little spurts, with frequent breaks for rest. Sky is amazed at how fast it gets easier. Recovery like this takes weeks and months, not hours.

“I don’t think there was actually anything wrong,” Four says, quiet satisfaction underlying his words. “Your body just needed a little help waking up its instincts.”

By the time they stop for the evening, Sky has progressed to standing unassisted on Legend’s open palm, so long as Legend is holding still, and has even managed a few uncertain steps. Perching, however, remains outside his reach. Something about the difference in angle makes it difficult to hold his balance. Legend turns Sky over to Hyrule and goes to stand next to Twilight, both of them watching while Four and Hyrule discuss how to apply coordination training meant for a Hylian to an avian body. Sky is tucked up against Hyrule’s chest almost like an afterthought, the leather of Hyrule’s binder a sturdy layer under his thin tunic. 

Legend must think Sky is more invested in this discussion than he actually is, because Sky catches him quietly asking Twilight, “Did you have this much trouble when you first changed?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

“I still can’t talk, though. You can. Might just be different for everyone.” 

“Is anyone actually surprised that, once again, I have superior skill?”

Twilight snorts. But he’s wearing a contemplative look now. “On the subject of talking,” he murmurs, and turns away from Legend’s question and out of Sky’s line of sight without bothering to clarify those last cryptic words.

Marvelous. As if he needed yet more proof that Sky would always have to work harder than those around him to be able to keep up. 

That isn’t true, he berates himself again moments after thinking it. Four let he and Legend in on a significant secret to tell him so. 

“You need a break, Sky?” Warrior. Sky coos at him, bobbing his head, grateful to be rescued from a ‘discussion’ that is drifting closer and closer to an argument. “He’s been working all afternoon,” Warrior states over the objections that follow. “Let the man have his downtime.” Four and Hyrule have the grace to look embarrassed. 

Sky coos at Four and Hyrule too, because he is very grateful for their help. Warrior holds an open hand up against where Sky is resting in the crook of Hyrule's arm. Sky steps onto it. It’s wobbly, slow, and accompanied by uncoordinated flapping of wings when Sky nearly loses his balance, but he does it. He can’t even be self-conscious about his lack of grace when all three of them beam at him with pride. 

Warrior carries him over to the campfire, bundles the end of his scarf over his lap, and sets Sky down on top of it. It’s not quite as much of a comfort as his own sailcloth would be, but Sky appreciates the gesture. He appreciates even more that Warrior draws him into his discussion with Time and Wild, asking yes or no questions that Sky can respond to directly. Before long Sky finds himself offering his opinions unprovoked in the form of affirmative coos or derisive chirrups that the others listen and respond to as if they were actual words. It makes him realize just how quiet he’s been all day. He’s immeasurably grateful to Warrior for making the effort to include him even as he resolves to do better. Just because communication is harder now doesn’t make it impossible. 

Dinner is nuts and seeds again, along with a single berry that Sky tries and can’t decide if he likes. 

“You ready to bed down?” Warrior asks him when he’s done. Sky ruffles his feathers. It’s easier than shaking his head in this body. “Right. Would you like to sit with one of us some more?” In response, Sky walks - walks! - over to Warrior, who grins at him and lifts him back into his lap. His shoulder would be better, but Sky doesn’t trust his ability to balance on it just yet. Soon. He’ll keep working and he’ll get there soon. 

Twilight clears his throat, reaching awkwardly for something out of Sky’s line of sight. He picks up a piece of paper and hands it to Warrior, whose eyes widen before he spreads it over his knees in front of Sky. 

The paper is covered in pictures, simple ink drawings of basic things. A sword. An apple. A stick figure in a ‘walking’ pose. A potion bottle with a wavy line to indicate it’s full of some liquid. 

“Wind and I put this together for you,” Twilight explains sheepishly. “We wanted to use actual words, but, well. None of us can read your Hylian so it wouldn’t do much good. We can make another one if it turns out we left something basic off. I hope it’s alright.” 

Sky coos at him, pecking at the simple smiling face. He has to be careful of his claws so they don’t punch right through the paper. 

All in all, it is a much more hopeful Sky who falls to sleep that night than the one previous. 

\- - -

Sky is never going to be able to properly transport himself again. 

He clicks his beak, feathers all ruffled up in agitation. “It’s okay,” Hyrule says, “Try again.” He brings his other hand in close to the open palm Sky is standing on. He’s holding his empty hand perpendicular to the ground, fingers straight and thumb tucked down. Plenty of space for Sky to step onto. Sky shuffles to the edge of his current platform. Reaching out with the first foot is fine, toes wrapping around Hyrule’s uppermost finger as if it were a branch. It’s the second foot Sky keeps having trouble with. Wobbling badly and with frantic wings flapping, he wrenches himself up. His other foot closes around Hyrule’s finger, but he’s put too much forward momentum into the effort and even the rapid flutter of his wings can’t stop his weight from tipping too far. 

Hyrule catches him, a hiss of tension escaping from between his teeth. “That time was better!” He says optimistically. “You got both feet on my finger!”

_“Monsters!”_

The warning is too little too late. Hyrule yells in pain and goes flying. Sky goes flying too. He tumbles through the air with all the grace of a rock. Instinct has him throwing out his wings, trying to stop the uncontrolled somersault, but it’s not enough. He crashes into the ground, bounces and rolls, and finally comes to a stop on his belly with his wings splayed around him. The sounds of battle are deafening, and Sky is once again left dazed and struggling to make sense of his surroundings while his companions fight for their lives. 

A clawed foot hits the ground right in front of him. Sky looks up into a mean face full of fangs. The monster leers down at him. Sky scrambles in the dirt. 

“No!” That’s Wind. That’s Wind’s sword going through the bokoblin’s chest. The monster vanishes in a puff of black smoke. Wind scoops Sky up, holding him plastered gracelessly against Wind’s chest as the sailor fends the next bokoblin off one handed. Wild comes to their rescue, fighting through the hoard with grim determination. 

“Give him here,” Wild throws out a hand. Wind must shake his head, because Wild’s tone gets more insistent as he repeats himself. “Wind, give him here, then cover me so I can get him up out of this fighting.” 

That does the trick. Sky is passed to Wild, who tucks him with only marginally more care against his own chest. Wild sheaths his sword and leaps into the closest tree, climbing it single-handed with not a bit less than his usual speed. Wild settles himself on a branch and holds Sky up to his face. “Sky, are you with me?” 

Sky’s answering warble is lost in the sounds of the battle. 

“I need to set you down so I can cover them, do you understand?” Sky bobs his head. Wild deposits him in the nook formed where a sizable branch juts out from the tree and draws his bow, turning all his keen focus to the fighting below. Sky does his best to cling to the branch, fighting down the disorientation and self-directed anger that grows more and more with every shout and clash of steel that carries up from below. He should be down there with them.

They’ll get to the Master Sword and it will change him back. It will. And in the meantime Sky will learn to fly, to at least get himself out of danger instead of needing someone to do it for him. 

At least Hyrule is on his feet. He must not have been too badly hurt by that first surprise hit. 

Sky’s intentions to get right back to work as soon as the battle is done go out the window as soon as the post-battle adrenaline fades, reality reasserting itself with a hammer blow to Sky’s energy. Sky falls asleep as Wild is getting them both back out of the tree, the tumble he’d taken and the stress of the battle catching up to him. He wakes up in Wind’s arms. They’re on the move and obviously have been for some time. 

“Sky?” Sky warbles in response. “Guys! He’s awake!”

“Oh! Good!” Hyrule’s relieved face appears over Wind’s shoulder. “How are you feeling, Sky?”

How is _he_ feeling? Sky makes an embarrassingly cranky sound, twisting his neck around to see the rest of the group. Their entire party trails to a halt as Wind stops walking and the rest of them turn to see why. Everyone looks fine, at least. All upright with no obvious limping, though with his current companions that doesn’t always mean anything. 

“We’re alright,” Time tells him. “You had us a bit worried, though. That looked to be quite the fall.” 

“And then you passed out! Hyrule’s magic couldn’t find anything wrong with you, so he thought we just needed to let you sleep.” There’s real worry hiding under Wind’s usual enthusiasm. Sky nudges him, cooing. 

“Right, if he’s fussing at Wind he’s fine. Can we get moving?” Wind makes a face at Legend, but Sky is grateful. 

As the group gets moving again Sky warbles in Four’s direction. “Uh, who are you- Four? I think he wants you.” Wind interprets for him. Sky pushes himself up to stand on Wind’s hand, rustling his wings and giving Four the most expectant look he can muster. 

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you need more time to recover.” 

Sky bobs his head and coos.

Four takes over where he and Hyrule left off. Sky stands on his hand, reaching out with his feet for the offered fingers. He’s even more wobbly now than he was before his tumble through the air. Getting even one foot shifted over is proving to be a challenge. 

“Is that how you’ve been doing it?” Wind sounds horrified. 

“How would you suggest?” Sky can hear some of the frustration he himself is feeling leaking through in Four’s voice. 

“Like this!” Wind brushes Four’s offered fingers away, leaving Sky standing on the edge of their smithy's open palm. Something nudges against the underside of Sky’s toes, lifting where they drape slightly over the edge of Four’s hand. It’s one of Wind’s own fingers. The second pass manages to catch under one of them. Sky steps forward with that foot without thinking and latches onto it. He freezes, startled. 

“Now the other one,” Wind encourages. He’s wearing the innocent smile that comes out when he’s getting away with something. Sky squawks. The foot he has on Wind’s finger moves a little as Wind nudges against the toes still draped over the edge of Four’s hand. When those toes catch too Sky picks that foot up with a startled jolt. His wings flap madly for balance as he’s lifted straight up, Four’s hand dropping away behind him and allowing his tail to drop down along the back of Wind’s hand. 

When everything stops moving he’s perched on Wind’s finger, held at eye level and so with a perfect view of the proud smiles on both their faces. 

“You did it!” Wind cheers. 

He… he did. 

Wind attempts to look stern. He’s unable to suppress his grin enough to pull it off. “Now you have to practice! Four, here, did you see what I did? Hold up your fingers!”

Wind and Four pass him back and forth between him for the rest of the afternoon. After the first few successes, his body finally seems to remember the proper balance and he finds he can step between them with ease. The boys up the ante. “Bet you can’t make it to my shoulder!” Wind challenges.

His arm stretches out like a long, intimidating pathway up to his neck. Sky shuffles carefully sideways, wobbling more than once. Wind stops walking, holding perfectly still. A noise of relief escapes Sky when he reaches Wind’s shoulder, a twittering little coo. He’s embarrassed, but Wind only cheers. 

After that it’s all a game. Four and Wind put their hands on each other’s shoulders so he can shuffle from one to the next. Sometimes the path is straight, sometimes they bend an elbow so he has to navigate a turn. And when that is no longer challenging enough, they both hold their arms outstretched with fingers barely brushing so that Sky has to make his way all the way down one arm, step from one perch to the next, and then go back up the new arm. It’s fun. By the time the afternoon starts to draw to a close, Sky is feeling confident enough with his balance that he hardly minds when Wind suddenly breaks into a jog with Sky still on his shoulder. Sky flails and squawks, battering at the back of Wind’s head with a wing, but he manages to hang on. Wind, of course, only laughs. 

“You should try flying next, Sky!”

Legend does a double-take as they pass. “Flying? Wasn’t he barely standing earlier?”

“He’s gotten a lot better! Look!” Wind slows. He rests a hand on Legend’s shoulder, ignoring his startle and sudden stiffening. Sky nips Wind’s ear. “Ow! Sky!”

“No need to defend my honor, Sky,” Legend drawls. “If you’ve got something to show, let’s see it.”

Legend is getting an ear nip too, Sky decides. Crossing the distance is almost child’s play now. He delivers his retaliation with no small amount of satisfaction. Legend curses, jerking his head away, and Sky scuttles back down Wind’s arm to escape the finger Legend pokes in his direction. 


	3. To Fly

Of course once Wind gets an idea in his head he won’t let it go and, Wind being Wind, he gets Wild in on it. 

“Come on Sky, it’ll be fun!” Wind wheedles the next day. 

Wild’s added “I do this all the time!” isn’t as reassuring as he probably intends. 

No, scratch that, Sky thinks as he catches sight of the poorly hidden mischief on Wild’s face. Wild knows exactly what he’s doing. 

There’s a fallen log. Wild has his Sheikah Slate out. Sky has seen this trick before, and he wants no part of it. 

Salvation comes in the form of Time. 

“What are you three up to?”

“Nothing!” The other two chorus. 

“Hm.” Time crosses his arms, the better to underscore his raised eyebrow. “Sky? Have you agreed to participate in this ‘nothing?’”

There’s a long moment of silence as Sky tries to find a diplomatic way of responding that he is actually, currently capable of making. The delay winds up speaking for itself. Time’s studied neutrality gains a disapproving edge. Wind slumps. “We just wanted to help him remember what it feels like to fly!”

“Ah. A noble goal, but this is perhaps not the best way to go about it.” Time offers his hand. “Only if you want,” he says to Sky. “If you’re having fun I’ll leave you be.” 

Sky pecks at Wind’s fingers, chirruping cheerfully. _No hard feelings._ Then he steps carefully onto Time’s hand. 

“You know how actual birds learn?” Wind asks, sounding torn. 

“I live on a farm, remember?” One corner of Time’s mouth tips upward ever so slightly. “I’ve helped rear my fair share of cuccos. You boys enjoy your fun.”

Once Time and Sky have gained some distance, Time fixes him with a serious look. “Are you certain you’re up for this? You’ve been pushing yourself hard.”

Sky considers. He is a little tired from all the stress and adjustments of the last few days, but it’s not in that bone-deep fatigue way that usually has him napping at every available opportunity. He’s been working, yes, but the fact that he’s still getting carried everywhere means he’s also been resting far more often than usual. 

The thought of being attacked again while he’s still so helpless that he can’t even get himself out of danger decides him. Sky bobs his head once, projecting as much confidence as he can manage. 

“Very well.” Time goes to one knee, lowering the hand Sky is perched on until it’s only about a foot off the ground. “Spread your wings and jump. You’re aiming for a glide, not a fall.”

Time seems to think this is sufficient instruction. Sky peers over the edge of his hand. It’s less distance to the ground than when Sky was perched on Warrior’s knee at the campfire last night. Sky has never been afraid of heights. No one from Skyloft can afford to be. Why does the drop suddenly seem so large? 

Time waits, patiently silent. It’s just like hopping off any other ledge. Instead of having his sailcloth to catch him, Sky has his wings. Wings are arguably the better option. He just has to trust his body. 

Sky gives a few experimental flaps, trying not to be too conscious of Time’s eyes on his back. Being flung out of Hyrule’s arms was a far larger tumble. He can do this. 

Sky jumps. 

The ground comes up fast. Sky had thought he would just hold his wings out and let himself glide down, but as soon as the ground starts rushing up to him they flap frantically of their own accord. He’s too close to the ground to actually achieve anything like flight. When he hits he hits hard, but he manages not to go tumbling end over end, so that has to count as some kind of achievement, right? 

“Sky isn’t actually a cucco chick,” Twilight comments, voice dry. He’s come up behind Time, watching with hands tucked into his belt. 

“No,” Time agrees. He chuckles unexpectedly. “But you should have seen what Wind and Wild were going to try. I thought this option had to be better than that.”

Sky chirps his agreement. Twilight grins down at him, offering his hand. “Want to give it another go?”

Yes. Yes, he does. 

Sky is thoroughly exhausted when Warrior finds them some time later. It’s well worth the effort to see his face when Sky leaps from Time’s shoulder and, fluttering madly and still more falling than flying, never-the-less manages to smack feet first into his chest. His wings continue their frantic flapping, claws trying to find purchase in Warrior’s tunic, until Warrior’s hands come up under him, holding him steady. Warrior brings Sky up to his face, mouth split with the kind of broad grin that usually only comes out when he’s winning a verbal sparring match against Legend. Sky makes the much more manageable leap from his hands to his shoulder, cooing proudly and nipping at his hair. He can’t help it. He’s in a good mood. Warrior laughs. “Not the hair, you cretin!” A single finger runs a line down Sky’s back. 

Sky fluffs his feathers, happy and content. Warrior’s scarf is well worn and perfectly bunched around his neck for nestling down in. His fingers continue to rifle through Sky’s feathers. Sky settles in for just a quick little nap, and completely misses the soft, fond look that takes over Warrior’s face. 

\- - -

They wake him for dinner. Of course they do. Sky participates in the dinner time discussion with an increasingly comfortable combination of body language, wordless chirps and coos, and the paper of ink drawings draped over Warrior’s knee.

“You know Wild,” Legend says so casually that Sky knows the next thing out of his mouth will be either bitingly sarcastic or a truly terrible idea that Wild will be immediately on board with. “If you really want to remind Sky what it feels like to fly, you should take him out on your paraglider.”

Wind and Wild’s jaws drop in tandem. “Why didn’t we think of that?” Wind wonders. Wild turns wide, pleading eyes on Sky. 

“Please, Sky?”

The paraglider is something entirely different than an explosively propelled log. Sky has been fascinated by it from the moment he first set eyes on it. He bobs his head and taps at the little sun picture with his beak. 

“Tomorrow,” Warrior interprets. 

“Yes!” Wind and Wild exchange a high five. 

Which is how the next day finds them stopping at the first suitable cliff. 

“Take it easy,” Twilight reminds Wild. “No big tricks the first time down.”

“Are you secure? You’re hanging on?” Warrior simultaneously frets over Sky, who is in the rather undignified position of being stuffed down the back of Wild’s tunic with only his head sticking out. Better than being actually tied to Wild or stuffed into a pocket or a bag, which were the other suggestions. No one is willing to let him hold on under his own power until they’re absolutely certain that A: he won’t be knocked loose at the first strong gust of wind and B: that he can catch himself in the event that he is somehow blown free. Sky squawks at Warrior as Wild makes a dismissive shooing motion with his hands. 

“I know, I know! First time down is just for practice. Come on Sky, let’s go!” So saying, Wild jumps up onto the side of the cliff, scaling his way to the top of it with envious ease. Sky clings with his feet dug into Wild’s undertunic, the champion’s signature blue overtunic tightening and releasing over his back in time with Wild’s climbing. 

As soon as he’s standing at the top, Wild pulls the paraglider from his slate. “You still ok back there, Sky?” Sky chirrups, tugging at a few hairs that have worked their way loose from Wild’s messy bun. “Impatient!” Wild laughs. “Let’s go then!” Without another word of warning, Wild leaps into thin air. 

There’s a short, quick drop before the paraglider catches them. Wild’s body swings forward and back before settling. Sky has no trouble hanging on as Wild steers them into a long, circling glide. 

It’s marvelous. The wind in his face, the weightlessness, the world spread out below them. From the moment he and his loftwing took their first flight, Sky has loved the feel of the open air. Of all the things that have changed in his life, that simple joy certainly isn’t one of them. 

Wild takes it slow, but even so the flight comes to an end far too soon. 

When they land, Sky hauls himself with a great heaving of his feet and flinging of his limbs out of the back of Wild’s tunic. He claws his way up to Wild’s shoulder, chirruping and tugging on stray hairs. Wild laughs. “Again?” Sky bobs his head, enthusiastic yes.

\- - -

Sky doesn’t mean to do it. It’s just, well. To be quite honest, now that he’s not focusing every spare bit of attention on regaining his mobility, he’s bored. Usually he’d have any number of hobbies to pass his downtime. Carving, strumming his harp, sparring with the others. He might not have nearly the same amount of excess energy as some of their party, but what he does have needs to go somewhere. 

“Sky.” Four’s voice is very level. “Are you preening my hair?” Sky freezes, realizing that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. It wasn’t on purpose. He’d flown to Four’s shoulder because their smithy was sharpening his blade and Sky was desperate for any kind of distraction that wasn’t aimlessly flitting from one shoulder to the next. The group is proud of him for his regained mobility but for many of them, Sky included, the novelty quickly wore off. Sky can only fly between the same nine perches so many times. Four was even making the effort to engage Sky in conversation around his favorite hobby. Even that, apparently, was not enough of a distraction. 

Four’s hand comes up to touch, finding the mess Sky has made. Sky has done quite a good job of turning the hair on this side into a rat’s nest. Whoops. Sky chirrups apologetically. Four sighs, his hand dropping into his lap. 

Of course, Legend notices the sudden change in activity and comes to investigate. He takes one look and guffaws. “If you were looking for a new stylist, Four, you could have just said!”

Four makes a rude gesture. Legend only laughs harder.

“What’s- oh." Twilight stares. Sky wants to disappear. He hunkers down and rustles his wings, fully intending to make a break for the nearest tree. 

“No, Sky, wait.” Twilight protests. “C’mere.” He lifts his arm in invitation. Sky takes it, if only to get away from Legend’s laughter and the way Four is very carefully not saying anything. He makes sure to clip Legend with a wing on his way by, taking satisfaction at the indignant “Hey!”

Sky is not exempt from occasional pettiness. 

He lets Twilight carry him out of view before stopping him with a quick tug to the nearest lock of hair. And it’s only a tug this time, no preening involved at all. 

Twilight clears his throat, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck before he remembers Sky is in the way and drops it again. Sky tilts his head, gives a questioning warble. Twilight has avoided being alone with him these past few days. Not that Twilight and Sky are in the habit of spending time together normally; Sky tends to gravitate towards Warrior, Twilight to Time and Wild. That change, coupled with Twilight's clear nervousness, only serves to make Sky all the more curious why Twilight has brought them to a small, secluded clearing now.

“Sorry, I just… I mean." Twilight stops, takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "It occurred to me that you used to spend a lot of time touching us. Wind especially. And I mean, you still are but riding around on our shoulders for the past few days probably isn’t the same as, uh. What you usually do.”

What he means is that Sky is usually the first person to fling a companionable arm around a shoulder or lean against someone by the campfire or offer a hug when it looks like it’s needed. He knows many of the others grew up alone or got used to living that way, but Sky never did. The people of Skyloft are very free with their touch, and even in the midst of his journey Sky was able to make visits home. It pains him to see so many of his companions so clearly missing home or just plain starved for touch but unable or unwilling to ask for help, so he saw no reason to change his behavior around them. They needed the touch as badly as he did. 

“It’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with it!” Twilight stammers into his uncertain silence. “I just realized we might be falling down on the job and wanted to make it up to you. So, uh. Cuddle session is open? If you want.”

Sky wants. Sky very, very much wants. He just can’t help but think that’s not all there is to it. He aims a suspicious head tilt at Twilight. 

“What?” Defensive. Oh yes, there is something Twilight isn’t saying. Sky maintains his skeptical silence. Twilight caves with gratifying speed. “Alright, look. I grew up with my adoptive parents, right? But then during my adventure, I didn’t see them. At all. When I finally made it back home. Well they tried. I had to go away again before we could really work it out, and I met Wild, and he was never afraid to touch Wolfie, and neither was Four, and… well honestly Wind was a little too friendly. The point is,” Twilight wrenches himself back on track, “that I got used to people touching Wolfie, but I haven’t actually turned into Wolfie since… you know… because it feels really unnerving now that everyone knows it’s _me_. And there's something I still haven't told you about Wolfie that probably would have been helpful but, but I couldn't-” Twilight trips over his words and stutters to a halt in a way that Sky has never seen him do. He's usually so carefully put together, always projecting an air of trustworthy competence. 

Twilight has been growing increasingly nervous the closer they get to the Master Sword’s resting place in his Hyrule. His frequent patrolling does little to quell the tension that has settled into his shoulders. It isn’t simply the constant threat of attack. 

All of them are worried about the potential consequences of Sky needing to use this Hyrule’s Master Sword. 

Sky warbles mournfully. Then he boxes Twilight’s ear with a wing, because really, he should know better than to think Sky would reject cuddles when they're offered. 

Whatever this other thing is, Sky figures Twilight will tell him when he's ready.

“Hey!” Twilight yelps, but he’s smiling. He takes them back out of the empty clearing and over to where Time is watching Warrior and Wind put each other through their paces. Once he's settled on the ground Sky picks his way over Twilight’s pelt until he can cuddle right up against his neck, his head tucked under Twilight’s chin. He can’t hear Twilight’s long exhale over Wind and Warrior egging each other on, but he can certainly feel it. 

\- - -

For all his worry about altering the timelines, it winds up being another battle that finds them first. 

The day after Twilight’s confession of loneliness, with their conversation still fresh in Sky’s mind, Sky lands on their ranch hand’s shoulders as they’re all preparing for another day of walking. He tugs at the wolf pelt Twilight wears, meeting his startled stare with a direct look. 

“Oh,” Twilight says when he finally realizes what Sky wants. His eyes dart to the rest of their group, mostly at least pretending not to watch. “You, uh. You really think?”   
Sky tugs on a lock of hair in mild reprimand, then at the pelt again, then lifts off and lands on a convenient tree branch, watching expectantly. Twilight lets out a nervous breath, and for the second time ever shifts form in front of the entire group. Sky goes straight back to him, landing just behind the significant ruff on his shoulders, and for some reason that has Twilight’s head whipping around to face him with a spooked tilt to his ears that swiftly changes into the most mournful look Sky has ever seen on him. Before Sky can second-guess his welcome, Wolfie sniffs him, huffs, and says in a clearly legible voice that is most definitely not Hylinan, _"Hello, Sky."_

 _"You can talk,"_ Sky says dumbly, momentarily forgetting his own lack of speech. He'd mostly stopped trying to put actual words into the noises he makes. It's less jarring if he thinks of them as wordless hums. _"This is the other thing you hadn't told me about Wolfie!"_

Twilight ducks his head. _"Yes."_

_"This would have been so helpful."_

Twilight looks as guilty as a loftwing that's gotten into the seed stores. _"I'm sorry."_

 _"I'm not mad."_ Sky decides the words are true after he's said them. It would have been immensely helpful, and yes maybe he's a little hurt, but he understands that some things are difficult. That just standing here in front of the others while they talk is difficult. 

Speaking of the others. Sky sneaks a glance. Time, he can’t help but notice, has an especially soft look on his face that he aims first at Twilight and then directly at Sky. Sky has _never_ earned a look like that from Time. Wild, too, comes up and gives Wolfie a quick rub behind the ears. He gives them both a full, beaming smile before falling into step with Wind. Wolfie snorts. Sky has to dig in with his claws to keep his balance as his ride breaks into a loping run to the front of the pack, as if to leave all that emotion trailing behind. 

Sky and Twilight spend the rest of the morning talking. Sky doesn't think he's ever spent so long in one on one conversation with Twilight. They're in the middle of comparing loftwing care to that of cuccos when the attack comes. Sky is jostled as Wolfie comes to a sudden standstill. He goes stock still, head raised, muscles quivering. Sky’s surroundings get much fluffier as Twilight's hackles go up and his fur stands on end. Wolfie lets out a sudden bark, deep and threatening, then Sky’s perch disappears out from under him as Twilight shifts forms. Sky takes to the air as the group behind them goes alert. “Monsters!” Twilight bellows, and that’s all the warning they have. 

It isn’t the hoard of bokoblins that comes frothing out of the trees that sets Sky’s blood running cold. He was helpless in the last battle, but not now. He may not be able to fight, but he is at least capable of getting himself out of harm’s way. No, it’s the laughter, familiar and bloodcurdling, that follows in the wake of the war party. It’s the same laughter that Sky woke to with a smothering weight atop him and a terrible wrongness in his body. It’s the monster that did this to him. It’s back. Sky circles frantically, trying to find the source. 

There. A hooded figure with a lantern, hovering just at the edge of the trees. Some form of poe. Sky calls, diving at it. It’s a feint. He doesn’t dare come into range of the swing of that lantern. But he succeeds in both distracting the poe and drawing his companion’s attention to it. The laughter turns to an angry shriek. 

A flash of magic from the battle below, and the poe is encased in ice. Wild leaps out of the fray, bounding off a boulder, the spin of his blade an arcing flash of silver through the air. He connects. It takes four more passes before the poe shatters. 

The Master Sword falls to the ground.

Sky nearly falls out of the air when he momentarily forgets to keep his wings beating. It can’t be that simple.

Sky tilts his wings, ready to make the dive, before he checks himself. There are still far too many bokoblins in play. He can’t make himself that vulnerable. 

But oh, how he wants to. 

Wild pauses by the sword, as if intending to scoop it up, but he’s attacked before he can do so. Sky lands on a tree branch above the it, anxiously hopping from foot to foot as he watches the rest of the battle play out. The others have this well in hand. He will do no one any favors by getting in the way. 

The moment the last monster falls, Sky flutters down out of the tree. His aim is good; he manages to land directly on the hilt. 

The change is instant and painless. His arms shorten and grow fingers, his legs lengthen, and Sky falls over with the sword clutched between his hands. He drops it just as quickly to accept a tackle-hug from Wind. “Sky! You changed back! You’re okay!”

“I guess a monster did have it,” one of the others mutters. 

Sky accepts the hands that reach out to pull him to his feet. He staggers, is steadied by the arm Warrior slips around his shoulders. It takes a moment to find his balance again. He lets himself lean on his friend, turning his hands over, flexing them just to feel his fingers. 

“Good to have you back.” Warrior gives his shoulder a squeeze. 

Sky smiles. “It’s good to be back, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thank you to everyone who has left comments, kudos, and so on! You guys make me want to keep writing. 
> 
> Twilight's behavior in the latter part of this chapter brought to you by the fact that I 100% forgot that Twilight as a wolf can talk to animals. (I haven't played TP since the original release okay.) He needed some reason to have been avoiding Sky; I figure his anxiety about others knowing he's Wolfie isn't going to just go away overnight, but he's definitely going to be stewing in guilt the entire time over his inability to get over himself when he knows doing so would help.


End file.
